


Hungry for Hank

by ThatScottishShipper



Series: Fanfic Fortnight [4]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Body Worship, Chinese Food, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Don’t post to another site, Eating, Feeding Kink, First Kiss, Food Kink, Frottage, Insecurity, Ken Doll Android Anatomy | Androids Have No Genitalia (Detroit: Become Human), Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oral Fixation, Praise Kink, Stuffing, Touch-Starved, Wire Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-18 03:22:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21504388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatScottishShipper/pseuds/ThatScottishShipper
Summary: Hank Anderson loves feeding himself.And Connor loves watching him.*Fanfic Fortnight Request.*
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Series: Fanfic Fortnight [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1537399
Comments: 2
Kudos: 65





	Hungry for Hank

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sinbirdy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinbirdy/gifts).



“Hank, are you sure about this?”

Honestly, Hank wasn’t sure himself. The whole situation spiralled stupidly out of control before he could take hold of it, and there was always that dark thread inside his mind, fretting over the possibility that he could screw everything up.

And the last thing he wanted was to mess things up _that_ bad that Connor left him forever.

“No,” Hank admitted, then he immediately regretted it when Connor’s face fell. “But I’m willing to give it a try… with you.”

That’s how they found themselves sitting on the couch, fiddling awkwardly as they waited for the chap at the door, and recalling the awkward series of events that brought them to this strange point in their relationship.

xxx

It had been just a regular Friday night in the Anderson household. After a tough week dealing with the Detroit public, Hank didn’t need an excuse to pick up a Chinese takeaway on route home, but that night had been horrendously stressful.

And it was no secret Hank was a stress eater.

Between snacking on Halloween snacks and his regular trash food, Connor was not best pleased with him. As Hank popped open containers, the Android’s calorie readings sore through the roof, cluttering his HUD with flashing warnings.

“Those meals in excess are not healthy for you, Lieutenant,” Connor said, sitting on the couch beside him, eyeing the meal with displeasure, but his gaze softened when he looked at Hank.

Hank’s answer? Like a broken record, he’d kick the bucket some day, and logically, he was fattening up for the harsh Detroit Winter, so wasn’t that better for him?

Expecting Connor to storm off in disgust, Hank ate as he always did, savouring the sweet and sour chicken in batter, slurping the noodles slathered in chicken broth (tossing a small piece to Sumo,) and dipping fluffy chips into the curry sauce.

By the time he got half way through the chicken curry and fried rice, Hank already found himself growing full. He took breaks between mouthfuls, parting his legs ever so slightly to give himself breathing room.

He had prayed Connor hadn’t noticed, that was off charging his batteries or something, but little did he know Connor lingered at the corner.

Connor paid no heed to the basketball game on screen or even Sumo strolling on by, but the interesting specimen on the couch, growing heavy with every bite. He watched how Hank shifted in his chair, in an attempt to ease the burden of his weighty meal.

Everything about it had become so… _fascinating_ , even as errors hit overdrive at an undiagnosed, internal error. These were normal human behaviours, especially if the result of a stubborn man stuffing himself silly.

What else did he expect?

Then, it happened.

A gurgle, almost deafening, occurred, and it unmistakably came from Hank. He knew exactly what it was, but the reaction was what was unexpected. Like his entire system overheated, causing everything to lag. When another shamefully long bubbling creek escaped, Connor soft rebooted.

Who knew a depowered android hitting the floor could be pretty loud?

When Connor had came to, a difficult conversation took place, with a worried Hank determined to know what caused his partner to pass out.

Initially, he suspected that Connor walked in on the gross display, red ringed, then passed out. Who could blame Connor? He looked down at his soft body snug beneath his light grey bed shirt and boxers, feeling utterly ashamed at himself.

But what Connor admitted surprised Hank when the Android finally recovered his vocal processes enough to talk.

“...I don’t know why,” Connor confessed, burning with… shame? “I thought it was just human curiosity because my senses couldn’t pick up anything wrong.”

“And what as that?” Hank dared to ask.

Reluctantly, Connor explained - a dramatic spike in temperature, an inability to look away, and an intellectual curiosity that he had no answers to. And it all stemmed from Hank, and his… habits.

Slowly, Hank blinked, struggling to think after such a big meal and a shock like that, but eventually, the pieces came together. He smirked.

“My God, Connor, you…” Hank chuckled, resting a hand on his pillowy belly as he felt the laughter coming. “That’s a kink you’ve got there.”

After a quick analysis of Hank’s ‘prognosis,’ Connor let out an indignant sound, his thirium pulse quickening. He denied it, affronted by the assumption. But his insides tightened with the suggestion, that desire for answers burning in his glare.

Hank acknowledged it, and knew there was only one way to know for sure.

“If you wanna know for sure?” Connor’s stars never broke away, convincing Hank that a small part of the Android wanted to know as badly as he did. “Gotta return to the scene of the crime. Same time tomorrow.”

xxx

Everything led to this moment, dragging painfully to the following day. Hank still remembered those curious eyes and that flickering LED blinking at him like a winking light.

And honestly, it had been _that_ tough a week, and Hank wasn’t about to say no to more food, nor the mere possibility of knowing if Connor…

A lump stuck in his throat. What if this whole thing was a stupid mistake? Maybe he misread Connor’s interest out of sheer desperation, and this might force them further apart?

After all, Connor did not seem too pleased at the assumption he… _liked_ what Hank did. And even if he, by some weird coincidence did, that didn’t mean he liked Hank doing it?

He snorted, folding his arms, and awaited what felt like the grim reaper’s doorbell. Hank had been doing this for so long, so having his secret blown left him with a mixture of conflicted emotions.

As for Connor, his system still bugged out, trying to troubleshoot the cause and effect from earlier. He sat with his hands clasped, head bowed, a steady blue halo being the only sign of stability.

But his mind scale wasn’t, replaying the sight of Hank from earlier, those sounds, and analysing every piece for answers. When Hank spoke of… kinks, he made it sound so simple, so basic, but Connor wasn’t reassured in the slightest.

It had only happened once, and only because of Hank.

His thirium trembled inside his chest cavity, unable to avoid the traumatising possibility of being broken.

Again.

Would even Hank want him if...

The piercing doorbell rang, heralding another round of takeaway food. Once Hank answered the door and returned, Connor realised that there was more tonight than there had been the previous night.

Hank was serious on his word, though the man himself tried not to call foul on the whole thing out of fear.

The meal was set before him, and with one last exchanged look, Hank lifted the barbecue wings to his lips, and devoured it.

Again, Connor observed the display with a morbid curiosity, questioning why exactly he took such interest in this almost obscene display. All humans gained sustainable through food consumption, and it was hardly the first time he watched the Lieutenant eat.

**[Could there be an element of personal enjoyment for the Lieutenant in eating?**

**A pleasure, perhaps?]**

Remembering his own physical response, Connor’s face burned, and he knew his fans were malfunctioning too soon. Trying to ignore his captive audience, Hank relished every piece of sauced meat from those wings, tossing them to the plate.

Thankfully, there were very few. As he sucked the sweet stained sauce from his fingers one by one, he eyed his lower half, gauging his threshold after his generous helpings the night before.

 _‘Yep, still good. Handled bigger buffets.’_ The hand touching his his belly was trailed very acutely by keen Android eyes. _‘And he’s still watching. Might be right after all.’_

Greedily, he sucked the last of his barbeque coated fingers before tackling his weekly favourite, the chicken curry with fried rice. Even without onions, it could be a filling meal, but he was determined.

One bite after another, Hank felt space slowly filling, and he knew he was in trouble already. Rice dishes always did slow him down. He had been so unsure how his stomach was going to handle round two of his gutsy display.

_‘Don’t sweat it. Try not to move too much, and it should work out.’_

From Connor’s perspective, he watched silently as Hank lightly ate mouthful after mouthful, his other hand resting upon his stomach. And to his realisation, he was gently rubbing in small circles.

Connor wished that were his hand.

Somehow, Hank finished the plate, winning that round. This time, patting his tightly packed belly rewarded Connor with a tiny burp, and an _“excuse me.”_

Within Connor’s own mechanical stomach, he felt a pleasant churn that made him feel like he committed a sin.

**[Why?**

**Why do I feel like this?]**

The sight of Hank less than subtly lowering his tight waistband only made it worse, a long sigh of relief once his confined stomach was freed. The tight snug of his vintage striped shirt pinched his belly, leaving Hank’s tummy peeking out from the bottom of the clothing.

**[This is illogical. It makes no sense.**

**Is it because it’s Hank?]**

The RK-800 swore steam protruded from his ears.

Uncomfortable with imposing quite readily, Connor whispered almost wordlessly, radiating too much heat. “...Are you done, Hank?”

Hank glanced at Connor, and nearly faltered, stunned by that molten desire within those chocolate brown eyes. It was almost enough to convince Hank he had been right, and he wanted to just -

 _No_.

It was Hank’s turn to wink teasingly. “Not ready to throw in the towel yet, Con.”

With stubbornness, the Lieutenant stretched down, revealing tantalising skin that almost caused Connor to short circuit. He cracked open a bottle of fizzy orange, and began to dangerously down it like there was no tomorrow.

Connor observed Hank’s throat devour the drink, trails trickling down his chin. Even without consuming anything himself, his analytical processors went into overdrive, picking up every little thing passing Hank’s lips.

**[Lips.**

**Lips.**

**Hank’s…]**

It had to be his instinct to process evidence talking, it had to be, but Hank’s mouth became such a fixation point, he had to…

Frightened, Connor drew his attention elsewhere, and his gaze fell upon the exposed flesh between the fabric of his shirt. From a spectator’s spot, the Android almost believed Hank’s belly grew bigger, tighter, and he yearned to touch it.

He felt so ridiculous.

By the time Hank finished the entire bottle, eclipsing the moment with a satisfying, bubbly, belch, his streaked navy blue and white shirt came undone, but he never noticed, oblivious in the heat of the moment to how much attention he drew to himself.

But Connor did.

Oh, how he did.

That straining button tugged just a little too much on his tight shirt, and with one slow shift, as Hank squirmed in his seat, trying to soothe his aching gut… it popped.

Hank’s button popped right out it’s stitching, exposing just a sliver of his stomach in the hourglass of his parted shirt.

And Connor nearly went into shutdown.

Hank grunted, subdued by his own clothing, but reluctant to shed clothing, not in company. He felt what he was doing was embarrassing enough.

Then he felt release when Connor’s fingers began to pluck Hank’s belly free, an unreadable expression on the android’s face. Those soft brown eyes watched him, his world plunged into broken coding and static that made little sense to an Android.

Even as Connor unveiled Hank’s round hairy stomach, hanging out, and his fingers trailed along the human’s lips, wiping away the dribbles of juice, he struggled to place why he felt this way.

Even as he slowly tasted a sample of what Hank fed upon, an explosion of flavour analysed and scrutinised within seconds.

**[Fizzy Orange. Hank’s favourite.]**

Good, at least something made sense in all this.

But he was overheating, and it seemed from reading Hank’s vitals that he was the same.

“Please, Hank,” Connor whispered, struggling to get the words out. “You did so good. It’s okay if you can’t finish. Don’t force yourself.”

Strained by a series of small burps followed by little groans, Hank was overcome with everything. At first, Connor exposed him so tenderly, with no signs of discomfort, then attempted to place a limit out of concern.

It truly was touching, but in a peculiar way, encouraging.

A determined huff escaped him as his hand reached out for the chicken noodle soup next, determined to wolf down the flavoursome starter. Until the most wonderful feeling in the world touched his tight stomach, massaging his upper belly soothingly. 

It was Connor, sliding close to his side until he pressed against Hank, attempting to ease the burden on his Partner’s stomach. It was the least he could do for him… and he wanted to.

“Be careful, Hank,” Connor said softly, gazing up at his human with tender eyes. “You need to pace yourself if you want to continue. Let me help you.”

That soft hand upon him, that gentle voice urging him to eat more softly, nearly brought him to tears. Still, Hank obeyed, slurping each noodle down, as Connor watched adoringly, working against the uncomfortable cramp forming in the older man’s belly.

The queasiness lingered, and as Hank reached the bottom of his soup, he began to moan in discomfort, hitting another wall. Foolishly, he tried to take the last bite of a generous slice, and found himself struggling.

The coughing began.

Immediately, he felt the softest touch massaging his neck, and he realised that Connor was attempting to help ease the strain on his throat.

“That’s it, Hank,” Connor said quietly, his LED flickering. “Swallow it.”

_‘Oh, God.’_ He was unsure what it was about Connor’s words - perhaps the fact he assessed Hank’s trouble to begin with and acted upon it, or his manner of speaking that bordered between kindly and controlling.

Either way, he couldn’t deny the warm pool rushing inside his stomach, filling him up more than he already was.

Once he finally overcame the last hurdle and swallowed, Hank heaved big, heavy breaths, but his dazed gaze was completely transfixed on Connor, on this strange intimacy forming between them.

Before, Hank indulged in these sessions by himself, something he gluttonously partook in to his heart’s content, basking in his own indulgence, then regretted the following day when reality set in.

This had, and had always been, _his_ private shame, _his_ weakness, _his_ sin.

And there was Connor, not only observing it all with calculation… but encouraging it.

_‘What happened to stuffy mcstuffington at the Chicken Feed?’_

Once he got himself back under control, Hank sat forward a little, the springs creaking in his sofa. He shot a glance at Connor, and saw the red ring accompanied with rapidly blinking eyes.

_‘Heh, the desired effect. Glad he’s not sending reports to CyberLife anymore.’_

He noticed he was coming to the end of his Chinese meal, but there was still enough there to trip him up. The damn chips, a pot of sinfully perfect curry sauce, and just to celebrate the occasion, goddamn banana fritters, drizzled with golden syrup.

As he deliberated on the chips (because why not?), Hank caught the way Connor’s fingers twitched, on the brink of some undesignated action. He sighed, perceiving that this was going to be the end of them both.

“Hey.” Hank’s rumbling voice caught Connor’s voice, and he pointed at the white bag of soft, hot chips. “Care to help a guy out?”

The action was instant. Connor was already still nestled against Hank’s side, cherishing his warm soft body, but with reflexes one could only expect of an Android, he snatched the chips, and - reconstructing the night before - the tub of curry sauce.

The eagerness to assist was enough to bring a smile to Hank’s lips.

“Are you ready, Hank?” Connor asked, his gaze upon the Lieutenant’s body. He was - in Hank’s eyes - either scanning his vitals to assess if he were still able to cope with this… or unashamedly looking at his distended stomach.

“Yeah,” Hank answered, as if it were obvious. “Could you…?”

One after another, Connor assisted, replicating what he had seen Hank perform the night before. Surprisingly, he seemed quite apt at the task, given Hank gave no indication of disapproval.

It confused both Hank and Connor.

By the time Hank was ready to tuck into the banana fritters, he was wincing and groaning, his stomach gurgling viciously.

But Connor was already one step ahead of him, tending to his partner with a gentle hand that eased the ache threatening to end his binging session. What amazed Hank most was the way in which Connor’s artificial skin dissolved away, revealing the sensitive chassis.

When Connor pressed Hank’s tummy just a little, a relieving little burp jumped from him, and he felt like he was in heaven. Connor’s own expression grew hungry, but he kept focused first and foremost on Hank.

“Do you have room?” Connor asked with concern, only to be met with Hank’s stubborn response.

“Of course I have room for dessert.”

And Hank devoured the container full of banana fritters, his fingers soaked with syrup. Connor recorded every last moment, mesmerised by the sight that contradicted so much about himself, that made no sense.

That Connor liked seeing Hank like this, he liked seeing Hank, he just wanted Hank.

**[Hank.**

**Hank.**

**My Hank.]**

Swollen and stretched from tonight’s meal, Hank strained, but found pleasure in it. He struggled, but was unable to resist stuffing himself beyond the realm of reasonable feeding.

And with Connor by his side, clearly invested and becoming part of the experience, he grew unbelievably incensed with want beyond the food.

Finally, the empty container clattered against the table, only drawing Sumo’s attention momentarily before he fell asleep once more.

Hank had done it. He had ravished an even bigger meal than previously, in awe at how packed he felt.

Hank Anderson had stuffed himself completely into a stupor, unable to think clearly beyond how _goddamn good_ it had felt. As his whimpers teetered somewhere between pleasure and pain, Connor found himself lost on the edge of something unfamiliar, but not unwanted.

It reminded him of last night, when he heard those _groaning_ sounds coming from Hank.

His messy, gluttonous, beautiful Hank.

Why did the very idea of resting his head against Hank’s belly, listening to all the little grumbles and gurgles of digestion intrigue him so?

Absolutely full, Hank sprawled back in his chair after the hearty meal, one hand cradling the bottom of his overhanging stomach, the other gently rubbing the damage. A wordless moan left his lips, interrupted by a stifled burp against his clenched fist.

“God… Con, that was…”

And then the shame set in.

There was no mistake about it. Hank was full, and every morsel of his meal tasted _so damn good_.

But he couldn’t believe he ate _everything_ , every last piece. His mind swirled with unpleasant thoughts, especially since Connor was sitting _right there_ , staring at him.

_‘...how fat I’ve gotten, how I’ll fight to get clothes on now, just to zip my damn pants up, how I can’t move, I…’_

His thoughts of shame were halted, once more that night, by Connor running his hand across Hank’s tight, taut upper stomach, in absolute rapture. That voice came out a breathless whisper.

“You ate every little thing, Hank,” Connor said, unable to tear his eyes away from him. Hank knew from those heated eyes alone something powerful was working away inside the Android’s processors. “You must be so full.”

For a moment, Hank saw the static glitch hiccuping inside his partner’s voice, and he feared he broke him.

Then, before he could speak, Connor stood up, holding his hands out to Hank. “You should rest it off, Hank. Let me help you.”

When Hank stood up, his knees nearly buckled, overcome by just how _heavy_ he was, and an eruption of hiccup rushed out quickly. He felt so embarrassed, knowing full well he was blushing like crazy.

But Connor gave no indication of embarrassment on his behalf, only admiration as he held him without difficulty. One hand steeled around Hank’s back, while the other rested upon his lower stomach, smiling every time a loud gurgle accompanied a hiccup.

They were, in Connor’s estimation, cute. But why?

Once the Android assisted Hank to his room, he watched Hank shuffle wearily to the bed before collapsing onto it, sprawled out like a giant spread eagle. The symphony of creaking springs only added to Connor’s difficulties, staring first hand at the Lieutenant’s condition.

A condition Connor had a small hand in making.

Guiltily, Connor propped Hank up on the pillows, still admiring the rolls on his Partner’s stomach. He tried to formulate a satisfactory response from all the data he acquired.

This mysterious interest came out of nowhere, something he hadn’t anticipated or previously liked. Not only that, but it seemed to connect with his growing obsession with Hank as a whole.

All he knew was that there was something about Hank, so snug and sated and soft in his arms gave Connor an intimacy he did not wish to share with anyone else. He knew he always cherished Hank, but suspected his vulnerable human Partner tried to hide this secret from outside the Anderson home, another thing he felt anxious about.

A craving, a sense of satisfaction, a yearning to feel full. Something he, by no means, just started doing to please Connor.

No, this - from the RK-800’s calculations - had been a long descent into a sustained eating habit for sometime, bringing him both pleasure and pain.

He wanted to tell Hank how cute he looked so rounded out like this, so soft and delectable to his touch. Hank, this big beautiful man, was completely his.

As Connor placed a kiss against Hank’s noisy stomach, he settled with a diplomatic, “I want to take care of you, and show you exactly what I think about you everyday, Hank. If you would like me to?”

The Lieutenant quivered, vulnerable beneath that touch and those words. “C’mon, Con, even like this?”

Without hesitation, Connor came over, unable to keep his hands off him. “Especially now, Hank. I… want you to feel safe, loved. You deserve this.”

Sobbing softly, Hank shook his head, but Connor persisted, pressing a kiss against the side of the Lieutenant’s forehead, staring into those crystal blues. When Connor’s hand sought the curve of Hank’s belly, he was surprisingly met with pressure from him pushing upwards, into the touch, desperate for more contact.

“I think I’ve found my answer. I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”

Connor’s delicate fingers ran slowly down the curve of his stomach, trailing every stretch mark. He said nothing, only tracing Hank’s natural design with intrigue, and the way he wriggled.

**[Hank is sensitive to the touch.]**

Connor filed that interesting little note away.

From the touch alone, the android knew Hank’s stomach was tight, and heavy. Slowly, Connor lifted one of Hank’s arms, something the Lieutenant permitted him to do, though the hesitation existed. His thickened inner arms made him feel… apprehensive without a shirt on.

But Connor did not deter, but rather was drawn to him.

He began to kiss those soft underarms, taking the greatest care to touch his lips against his stretch marks.

**[I want to show you, Hank.**

**You deserve to be loved.**

**And I…]**

His hands began to explore, rippling blue shell attempting to interface with smooth human skin. Hank moaned, eager for touch long denied to him. Slowly, Connor began to kiss along the man’s chest, recording every detail of Hank with his attentive fingers and his eyes.

“Hank,” Connor sighed, fanning his hands across the man’s body, then trailing his fingers down the taut skin. “You’re breathtaking.”

Hank snorted. “Come on, Con.”

“It’s true,” Connor said, unable to resist him. “I want to touch you… every part of you, Hank.”

Hank growled, positively entranced by Connor above him, staring with heated eyes. It was as if something in his Android switched, and he found Hank… strangely desirable.

His thoughts were cut short when he felt a small, wet contact upon his pump nipple, and he dissolved against Connor’s mouth.

“Oh, _Go-_ ”

Arching himself into Connor’s slick mouth, Hank felt himself teetering on the edge of arousal, while feeling so heavy, almost sleepy. As Connor met his stretched out belly, touching him so tenderly, so lovingly, stinging wetness crept into his eyes.

Connor’s touch was godly. Every knead, every circular rub, every soft _push_ against the bubbling cauldron that was his stomach, and the loving fascination in his lover’s…

He stifled a sob, and Connor lifted his head, stroking Hank’s face.

“Hank,” Connor whispered, resting his forehead against him. “What’s wrong?”

Hank choked back a sob. “I’m not used to this… You, having someone know… and you… what are we, Con?”

“I already told you, Hank,” Connor told him, nuzzling his nose against him. “I can be whatever you want me to be. But what I’d like is to be with you always, to have you all to myself…”

Slowly, Connor recommenced his loving touch, caressing his cheek, then returning his hands to every part of his body. “I want to know as much about you as I can. I can… record every little part of you.”

Raising an eyebrow, Hank smirked, sniffing his tears away. “You’d waste your data on me?”

“It’s not a waste, not when you’re so perfect to me.” His LED swirled sweetly, those heated eyes hungrily devouring every part of Hank. His hands ravished Hank, who squirmed under his touch, making it clear exactly where he wanted to be touched.

And Connor received the message loud and clear, smoothing his palms over Hank’s warm body. He received a needy whimper, and it spurred the Android onward.

“I want to touch you, learn as much about you as I can,” Connor admitted, cuddling closer, and placing a tender kiss upon the crest of Hank’s bloated stomach. “I want you to share these experiences with me, so… I can help you.”

Dazed with love and his own satisfied sense of wholeness, Hank remembered Connor’s comforting embrace - _“Be careful, Hank. You need to pace yourself if you want to continue. Let me help you.”_

“Con, you… really do like… this?”

Connor’s LED sparked red momentarily, as though he were caught in the act, but after processing the whole experience honestly, he nodded. “Yes. I… do. I never expected I could experience these kind of… emotions, but they are there. And I admire watching you, as strange as it sounds.”

Licking his lips, curling against Connor, Hank listened. “Seeing you so happy, loving every moment of it, so… satisfied, it…” Averting his eyes for a spell, Connor tried to articulate his desires. “It overheats my senses, especially knowing you are mine, Hank.”

Before Connor could preconstruct clearly what was happening, Hank tugged him into a needy kiss. Their hands pawed each other, their desire addled minds muddling everything.

Eventually, Connor broke away, a tempting smile lingering on his face, as he began to shower Hank with loving kisses, and attentive hands.

“Thank you, Hank…” A kiss landed on Hank’s stomach, then he touched his cheek against the flesh. The audiological bio-components in his ears registered the cacophony of sounds churning inside Hank, and he felt his thirium stir in response. “You took in so much, and you were irresistible doing so.”

Hank moaned beneath his touch, basking in the helplessness of his relaxed state. “Hardly.”

Suddenly, Connor did something he didn’t expect. He sat up on the bed, staring down with an almost coyish flush as he began to undress himself, stripping all the way down.

Slowly widening bright blue eyes took in the striptease, every perfect part of Connor, even down to…

_Oh_.

At the sight of the RK-800’s smooth mound between his legs, Hank blushed, his eyes darting rapidly between Connor’s smouldering brown eyes and his private area or lack there of. Before he had a chance to clear his throat to ask, Connor straddled, then lowered himself upon Hank’s stomach.

The glitched moan that sighed from between Connor’s lips was positively _sinful_.

As for Hank, the carefully placed pressure upon him caused him to groan, but the vision of Connor mounting him, the white chassis between his legs revealing itself in a rippling blue light, desperate to interface with the man beneath him, was heavenly perfection.

Someone as perfect as Connor truly wanted him.

Shamelessly, Connor ran a hand through his soft brown hair, broken whimpers shattering the silence of the dark, quiet room. Only the Android’s stuttering LED and the shimmer where the white shell between his legs activated gave light, craving contact with Hank.

“...Ha… aa… an-nk...”

Flooded with arousal at the sight, Hank clamped a supportive hand on Connor’s thigh, which exposed immediately to his touch. He readied his lover with a steady gaze as he began to rock his own hips, allowing Connor to ride his rounded belly.

As soon as the effect was felt, Connor gasped, the soft sound a flutter of arousal. He was at the mercy of the big, beautiful body below him, engorged and rumbling from the backwards and forwards movement.

“Hank,” Connor panted, stroking the man’s cheek. “You’re perfect, so good...”

Growling with pleasure, Hank thrust against Connor, panting from the delicious friction. His other hand trailed up his lover’s back, reaching the back of his neck, but stopped when his touch elicited the sweetest cry.

“Con?”

“ _Please_ , Hank,” the quivering Android begged. “It’s sensitive - the nerves are… _Please, Hank, please…_ ”

“Whatever you say, baby,” Hank murmured, continuing to rub his fingers along the delicate panel behind Connor’s neck.

Everything in Connor’s body _screamed_ , every nerve ending flooded with hot white static that met at the exposed pubic mount between his legs where Hank’s softness resided.

“Hank - **Hank** -

**Love** \- I - **love -** ”

He rutted, moaning and reclaiming it all, then everything stopped.

He fell forward, overheated in Hank’s arms, who caught him lovingly.

It took very little effort until Hank himself exploded with sweet release, arching upward, and whimpering Connor’s name over and over again. He heaved, sprawling back onto the bed, panting harshly.

As Connor slowly came to, rebooting, the first thing he became aware of, through his fingers, was the thundering sound of Hank’s heartbeat. The reassuring sound brought a smile to his lips.

Then he felt the quiet storm still brewing inside Hank, most likely awakened by the intense workout. He kissed his chest, at the heart of his tattoo, and he felt a soft laugh beneath his lips.

“Hey, there.”

“Hi,” Connor whispered, raising his head slightly to gaze into those tender blue eyes. “Was that… satisfactory?”

“Of course, honey,” Hank answered, brushing loose strands from Connor’s face. “And… I love you too, you little weirdo.”

For a blissful time, the two held each other, whispering gentle loving sentiments to one another before sleep eventually claimed Hank. While Connor never went to sleep, he succumbed to stasis, resting his head and hand on his partner’s belly, cuddling with Hank who slept on.

**Author's Note:**

> My last fill for the first round of Fanfic Fortnight, and it was a Request for Connor feeding Hank with stuffing shenanigans. Sorry this took so long!
> 
> This was my first ever writing for Feederism/Stuffing stories, so I hope it was okay. I tried to inject the usual Hank and Connor being disasters, mutual pining, self-conscious beans, followed by sweet, tender lovemaking. Because why not?
> 
> I went with the Chinese takeaway noms because it’s personally food I’m most familiar with. Fun fact: the chicken curry with fried rice (no onions) is literally my order, and I do give my cats the chicken out the chicken noodle soup, so I added that little bit in for Sumo.
> 
> Thank you very much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it. 💙


End file.
